


those pitiful children

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Self Harm, Suicide mention, and also the original purpose of this was to practice writing panic attacks so expect many of those, just a warning: this will feature self harm multiple times, lots of angst without much comfort but most of it is left up to interpretation so i mean, take it whichever way u want, theres going to be a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Lots of lil drabbles, all of them are post-musical. Many of them will feature panic attacks. Hope you all enjoy :P





	1. 9:28 PM

**Author's Note:**

> Michael has a panic attack and has to leave the house. (self harm)

**_9:28 PM_ **

_I don't care._

He said it to himself a million times, slumped on that bathroom floor.

"I _don't care_ ." He was shaking, hands curled into the mat on the bathroom floor. He didn't care. He definitely didn't care. Sure, he'd called him a loser and shoved him and just _abandoned him_ but he didn't care, he _did not care._

_I need to get out of here._

He couldn't breathe, he was taking in short gasps of air. God, he was a mess. Had he locked the door? Fuck, he hadn't locked the door. He should've locked the door. He couldn't stand up. He stared at the door, as if he were trying to will it to lock of its own accord. One shaky hand planted itself on the seat of the toilet, pushing up. He stood on trembling legs, his hands on the sink to hold himself steady.

He stared into the mirror, furrowing his eyebrows. Before he realized what he was doing, there were glass shards falling into the sink, onto the counter, onto the floor. He nearly collapsed again, one hand grasping a shard of glass, the sharp edge against his hand - it would be so easy to slice his hand open.

No, someplace easier to hide.

Into his arm - over, and over, and over. Lines of thin cuts. He watched the blood slowly drip down his arm, dazed.

_Knock-knock, knock-knock._

It snapped him out of his trance. He threw the glass shard to the ground - one bloodstained piece among the rest. "Occupied!" He yelled, his voice choked up and high pitched.

Silence.

He could hear the music through the floor - it was insane down there. He had to get out. He had to sneak out. He glanced out the window - too high up. His breathing sped up, he didn't have enough space. It was too crowded.

He opened the door with some trouble, ignoring how there was blood beginning to stain his sweatshirt. He just wanted _out._ He would've just sprinted, but that would involve going through the crowd - and maybe seeing _him_ again. He didn't want to see _him._ He wasn't even sure if his friend was in there anymore. Maybe it was all the squip.

He didn't like that idea.

He hurried, looking for a way out from upstairs. The majority of people were in the living room - he could sneak into the kitchen and leave through the door there. Good plan.

His heart was pounding and he was shaking, one hand gripping the handrail of the stairs so tightly his knuckles turned white. He sped up, practically leaping off the stairs and rushing into the kitchen. Empty. For now. He had to get out, he _had to get out._ He struggled with the door for a moment with his bloody hand, but it opened and he bolted into the crisp, cool night air. He took a moment to breathe, this was much better than inside the house.

He wanted to get home. The walk wasn't far. He could do it. He might stumble a few times, but he could do it.


	2. 3:44 PM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael hates public spaces. Especially when he's being stared at.

**_3:44 PM_ **

Everything was  _ terrible.  _ Public spaces were  _ terrible.  _

He'd just abandoned Jeremy like that. He'd bolted for the nearest private place - the bathroom. Locked himself in a stall. Everyone had been  _ staring,  _ everyone had been  _ watching _ . He was shaking. He hated it when this happened. Not even that many people. About ten in all. The food court in the mall on a Wednesday. There was nobody there, so why was he freaking out?

God, where was Jeremy?

He drummed his fingers against the floor, sitting against the wall. Public bathrooms were disgusting.

Yes, distracting thoughts,  _ please. _

_ Where the hell is Jeremy? _

He tried to control his breathing. Slow counts. One. Two. Three.

_ Where the fuck is he? _

_ Four. Five. Six. _

Maybe something bad happened. Maybe he had gotten hurt - or maybe, maybe the squip had taken over again, or, or, or-

"Michael!"

A sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can find me on tumblr at miichaelhere.tumblr.com!! ((this ones really short sorRY))


	3. 9:58 AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy hates his memory for voices.

**_9:58 AM_ **

_ Take your hands out of your pockets. _

The voice echoes. It's just a memory, but it sends chills down Jeremy's spine and he complies, his hands leaving his pockets.

_ Arch your back, puff out your chest. _

It's a habit. He listens to the echoes of the voice still. Old orders, or new ones that just somehow find their way to the front of his mind. Damn his memory for voices.

_ Speak like you don't care about your own death. _

He swallowed, closing his eyes, pausing in the middle of the hallway. Kids just kept streaming past, ignoring him. He had to get out of there.

He turned and bolted towards the nearest private place - an empty classroom with a wide open door. The lights were off and there was nobody inside - so it had to be safe for him to sit in. He was trembling a little. He didn't like that at all.

"Stop it." He mumbled, hands curling into fists - still trembling.

_ Can't move anymore. _

_ Why can't I move. _

_ God dammit, move! _

He almost collapsed into a chair, taking shaky breaths. He tried to focus on breathing - in, out, in, out. 

He reached for his phone with trembling hands, texting Michael. Telling him to come to the abandoned classroom he was in.

Probably a weird thing to text his friend, but he didn't care. He just needed Michael.

_ Count to ten, or something, control your thoughts. _

_ One. _

_ Two. _

_ Three. _

He could hear footsteps outside. His hand twitched and he flinched away from it.

"Jeremy?" A hushed voice - thank god.

"Hnng." He couldn't talk - he was exhausted, could hardly keep his eyes open.

"You okay…?" Michael peeked into the room, eyes widening a little bit upon spotting Jeremy. "Shit, what's wrong?"

"Heard  _ his  _ voice, s'not goin'  _ away. _ " He was still shaking. Michael pulled a chair over, sitting next to him. 

"... is it okay if I touch you?"

Jeremy fiercely shook his head, gasping for air. Michael nodded. "Alright. I'll just talk then."

They sat for what felt like hours, Jeremy trembling while Michael spoke, saying mostly reassuring things. Eventually, the tremors died, and a few minutes later, the lunch bell rang. Michael tilted his head.

"C'mon. We should go to lunch, and then we can call your dad and he can pick you up, if you think you need to rest for today."

He swallowed, still nervous - the voice would come back soon, he was sure of it. "Yeah, sure. Good plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> youuuu can find me at miichaelhere.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> u can find me on the tumbles @ miichaelhere.tumblr.com!!


End file.
